


a reputation to uphold

by angryjane



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bottom Simon, M/M, Making Out, Sexual Tension, Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, there's no sex tho dw, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 01:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18841162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angryjane/pseuds/angryjane
Summary: intimacy....





	a reputation to uphold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charliebradburyismyspiritanimal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliebradburyismyspiritanimal/gifts).



> :) idk how to write anything intimate so i'm practicing :0

**Simon**

 

Call me a romantic, but I think I’m in love with Baz.

I probably should have realized sooner, considering.

He’s got me wrapped around his finger and I don’t think he really knows it.

I can feel him watching me, when I prance around the flat in my pants, waiting, hoping for him to snap.

His eyes get all narrowed and dark and his fingers will tighten on whatever he’s holding and I want him to lose it, but he’s so fucking cool; he’d never lose his composure if he could help it.

It’s more or less become yet another competition between us; it always is.

I can’t help it, though. I want him to fucking destroy me or _something_. I’m not exactly sure what I’m waiting for him to do to me, but I want it so bad.

I’ve been having dreams about him, too. I’ll wake up, hard and panting, and look over and see him asleep beside me, pale skin all glowy from the moonlight, and I think maybe I’m going crazy, cause I think of waking him up and kissing him until he gives me what I need.

I know he wants it to.

It’s a back and forth, seeing who’ll snap first. He’ll pull my hair while we lounge on the couch (he’s figured out how much I like that); I’ll bite and nip at his ear in the mornings. (It’s fucking hilarious to me that the vampire has a bite kink. I think I have one too, considering. I won’t tell him so though; I’ll let him figure it out.) He’ll lodge a thigh between my legs and _push_ , and my breath will hitch and my fingers will tighten in his shirt and then he’ll pull away, act like it didn’t happen. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it kills me.

Sometimes he does this thing, where he ties his hair back and sticks his tongue out in concentration, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Determination looks good on him. His stupid perfect eyebrows will bunch over his dark eyes, and his teeth will show just the lightest bit through pale lips, I can’t get over it. I’ve taken to going on runs when I know he’s studying, just so I can avoid getting all bothered over that look. It’s not even aimed at me, and it still gets me.

The way he looks at me is the same way he looks at the neighbors’ cat when he’s not fed; like he’s going to devour me. God, I wish he fucking would.

It’s a cat and mouse game, really. I’ll push his buttons, he’ll push mine. A peck on the cheek when we get home from lessons will turn into making out on the couch will turn into him teasing me and running away because he knows how much I hate that. He leaves things unfinished in hopes I’ll break and finish them. I won’t, though.

I’ll break him first.

 

**Baz**

It isn’t intentional, not at first.

Bunce has made this amazing cake, and Simon had been eyeing it all bloody day. She’d left for a study session, giving Simon the go-ahead to eat it on her way out. I’d raised an eyebrow at her, and she’d whispered, “I made a spare.” That made me smile.

Simon had dropped into a chair and pulled the plate towards him. I’m pretty sure he would have just devoured it with his hands if I hadn’t brought over forks.

“Don’t be an animal, Snow.”

“But you love animals.”

“I love to _eat_ animals, you numpty. Do you want me to eat you?”

He’d only shrugged, the bastard.

And then he’d dived right into the cake with a disgustingly endearing vigor. And he’d _moaned._ An actual, full-on, moan. It might have been the richest, most singularly erotic thing I’d ever heard.

I dropped my fork, and he glanced up in confusion before putting more cake in his mouth and doing it _again._

I’d cursed, and he’d tilted is head at me. “Something wrong?” He’d sputtered through a mouthful of cake.

“Nothing, Snow.” I’d sighed, but he was making those fucking _sounds_ still.

You can’t blame me for not sleeping well that night.

 

**Simon**

 

I’m in the kitchen when I hear the door open and close. Penny’s at the market, so it must be Baz.

“Snow?” He asks as I set my (Normal) teapot on the stove.

“In here.” I reply. I go about making my tea, putting out the cup and dropping the bag in, when I feel cool hands snake under my shirt. I yelp, the teacup crashing to the counter with a clatter.

“Baz!” I try to turn around in his arms, but he pushes against me, boxing me in between his hips and the cool marble.

“Baz?” I repeat, but it comes out breathless, and now he’s leaning in, his chest smooth to my back. I can feel the muscles in his chest shift as he wraps his arms tighter around me, hands sliding up my front to dance around my ribs. He starts poking out a pattern, fingers burning my skin even though they’re so cold. It makes no sense to me, but he seems to have certain trails he follows every time he touches me. I let him. I’d let him do _anything_ to me, so long as he’s touching me.

A finger brushes against my nipple and I yelp, jerking involuntarily, hands gripping the edge of the counter.

He lingers there a minute, breath fanning out over my skin, and then he leans in and places a kiss on the bump at the base of my skull. I can feel him smirking against me, and that should not be as hot as it is. The prat has the audacity to be sexy even when he’s being a git.

I clear my throat, trying to get ahold of myself. “What are you,” I stifle a gasp as he moved his hands down my sides in one swift motion, “doing?”

“Should I stop?” He asks, smirk still in place as he drops kisses on my shoulders, pushing my t-shirt out of the way with one hand, the other sliding back to my hip.

“N-No.” I hate how weak it sounds, but at this point I’m pretty sure I’ll die if he stops.

“Mm. A shame, really,” He pulls his hands from me and steps away. I whirl around indignantly, but he’s still smirking as he continues, “I have class in ten minutes. Maybe another time.”

And then he _leaves_.

I _hate_ him, and I hate it even more that I love him.

 

**Baz**

I’m studying for an exam when Simon flops into my lap with a huff, knocking my textbook onto the cushions beside me.

“Can I help you?” I ask coolly, but I’m secretly pleased. I love when he’s touching me, even in the most casual or comfortable of ways. In fact, I love it even _more_ when he’s casual about it.

“’m bored.” He says, chin settling against my chest as he gazes up at me through his lashes. Snow has obnoxiously long lashes, and they make his buggy eyes look big like a doe’s.

“I think I can remedy that,” I tell him, slipping my hands up the back of his shirt. He sits a little straighter, legs slung over my lap, leaning in. I can feel his breath ghosting against my lips and it takes everything in me not to shudder.

“You can?” He giggles, and he smells like cinnamon.

I smirk at him, tilting my head out in a challenge, “I have a few ideas…” I trail off, hoping he get’s the point.

“Like what?” He asks, and Crowley, he _means_ it. He’s so fucking thick, (Controversial opinion, but I’ve learned this word “thicc” and he might be that too.) I push forward, meeting his lips, and he giggles again.

“Oh! That!”

What a dipshit.

A dipshit who is currently trailing his hands up my neck, it seems. They’re so _warm_ , like him. He shifts so his thighs straddle mine, chests bumping and breath mingling. I swipe my tongue across the seam of his lips and he opens them; I feel a little gasp and a grin against my mouth.

My hands are sliding up his back now, nonsense patterns and swirls, leaving my fingertips tingling. I move them down to his hips, careful to drag my nails against his skin that way he likes. I wrap my hands around his waist, digging my hips into the divots of his hipbones and he yanks his face from mine.

Simon whimpers, and _god,_ if that’s not the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“B-Baz,” He moans, and oh. Scratch what I said before; _that’s_ the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. He’s pushing against me, hands raveled in my hair and practically _singing_ into my mouth.

I love him like this, but I have a reputation to uphold.

It takes everything in me to tear myself away from him, retract my hands and lips and fall back into position on the couch. I pull my book back into my lap and pretend to read it, but my heart is still racing and I can’t comprehend any of the words on the page with Simon’s loud pleading pants beside my ear.

“ _Baz_ ,” He whines, “Why’d you stop?” He sounds so sad about it that I honestly consider a moment throwing my book out the goddamn window and dragging him into my lap. He looks so _pretty_ there.

But I don’t—Good things come to those who wait, right?

He leans into my shoulder, hot breath in my ear, and whines again. “Baz, _please.”_

I smirk the slightest bit, turning my head to glance at him from the corner of my eye. And by god, does he look gorgeous like this, desperate and needy and hot. His skin, warm and electrifying where it’s touching mine, is flushed a bright pink, brilliant against his dark moles. His eyes are wide, pupils blown, and his mouth is slightly parted, lips swollen and bruised.

“Use your words, Simon,” I tell him, because it always works him up.

He huffs, leaning back as if I’d hit him. He pauses, then does that stupid adorable thing he does where he juts his chin out insolently, lips pulled into a pout, eyes narrowed. He pulls his hand from my shoulder, standing up off the couch.

“Fine then. I’m going to be in my bedroom, don’t come in.” And he storms off.

For a minute I think he’s gone off to pout, but then I realize, no, he’s gone off to do something else entirely. Something I’d rather watch. Or, preferably, do for him myself. With my mouth.

I consider going in after him, but then he wins.

I’m no quitter, so I daydream about what he’s doing instead. Is he gentle with himself, or harsh and fast? What does he think about? Or does he just not think at all? Simon’s awfully good at that.

I hear a thump from behind his door and my toes curl in the carpet.

I want to see so badly, it physically hurts. I think I almost caught him at it, once, back in seventh year. I’m not quite sure though, since he’d stormed off before I could figure it out.

Sitting here isn’t doing me any good, so I stand and walk to the door, rapping lightly with two fingers. There’s shuffling from inside, then Simon calls, “What.” His voice sounds strained, slightly breathy.

“I’m going to the store. I’ll be back in an hour.”

He grunts, and I leave.

 

**Simon**

 

We’re in _public_ , and he’s got me pressed against the booth, hands caging my hips against the faded leather. His eyes are dark, and he smells like cider and his posh cologne. I could get drunk off that disgusting stuff, especially when he’s pressed in against me lie this. He’s got that nice shirt on, the one that makes his eyes look more green than grey, and those fucking _jeans_ again.

“Baz, people can see us,” I whisper, turning my head so as not to look him in the eye. His eyes really are the death of me.

“So?” He shoots back, “Let them.” I can see a devilish grin growing on his face from the corner of my eye, “Unless you’re too scared…?”

I huff. “I’m not scared.”

“Really? Seems like you are.” God, I love it when he gets like this, all seductive and predator-like.

“ _Baz,_ ” I whine, and he laughs but pulls back, flagging the waitress.

“We’ll have the check, please.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and feedback, criticisms, etc. would be LOVELY
> 
> seriously let me know how to make it more authentic, more intimate, more real!!!!
> 
> also if u like this maybe i'll write more??? let me know if you'd want that


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